Building Bridges
by SodapopFanFics
Summary: There is a time in everyones life when you feel hopeless, trapped and afraid, but there will come a time when there is a light at the end of the tunnel, to forgive enemies and move forward. But how do the Autobots, humans and newcomer Aubrey find the light? R
1. Chapter 1-The Social Outcast

"Ready?" Dad asked. He tossed the car keys from one hand to the other as he leaned againist the door frame.

"Yeah, just a sec," I repiled. I laced up my boots, threw on a red hoodie and grabbed my back-pack, swinging it over my shoulder. I followed Dad downstairs. He tossed a piece of toast at me and I caught it.

I took a bite out of it as I followed him outside, flipping up my hood. Figures it would rain on the first day of school. We got in Dad's beat up, black BMW as fast as we could so we wouldn't get soaked, it was _pouring_.

In the car, Dad looked at me. "Your sister and mother would have a fit if they saw you." Then, he realized what he said. His face turned pale and the atmophere became awkward. Dad cleared his throat and put the keys in the ignition.

There was silence as the car lurched out of the drive-way, the only sounds were the wind shield wipers, the rain pounding on the car and the sound of the radio fading in and out. Staring out of the window, I couldn't help but think of Heather. My beautiful and popular older sister Heather, with her brown wavy hair, her perfect blue eyes and lovely smile. Now, I thought grimly as Jasper High came into view, I'd never see her again.

"She misses you, y'know," Dad said suddenly, breaking the eternal silence.

I finished off the toast, wiping the crumbs off my chin. I 'hmhm'-ed and stared out the window. Since when did it rain in Jasper? The only time it ever rained was when we started having those freak storms.

Dad cleared his throat. "She wishes she was home more," he continued, "it's just hard."

Sure she did. Mom freelanced; she got to decide what assignment she would take on and what ones she didn't, she could easily choose ones that didn't require her to leave for ten weeks. Mom worked for a travel magizene, she was always jetting off to some exotic location for a story she just _had_ to chase.

"It's cool," I said. "I'm used to it, anyways. Besides, you're always home."

Dad pulled up to the front door, careful not hit anyone who was scrambling to get inside. Dad sighed and looked at me. "I'm sorry," he said, as if it was his fault and not hers. "Shes always trying to get more local assignments. By summer we should be seeing her a lot more."

Yeah, right. That was the same story I've heard since Mom started jetting away from us, from thinking of Heather. I knew that was the reason. Besides, there were plently of local assignments before, why wasn't there any now?

"Thanks for the ride! Good luck on the inking!" I shouted as I jumped out the car, slamming the door before he could reply.

He waved at me before driving away. I pushed the doors opened, getting out from the rain. I squeezed through the bodies of students to get to my locker. Different scents, voices and laughter fogged my mind, I hate crowds. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I made it to my locker.

My locker was upstairs at the end of the hall, smack in the middle of the Biology lab and a fountain. It was the one place where I could finally break through the crowds and take a breath, one that didn't conist of inhaling cheap male colone and an overdose of prefume.

I sighed and opened my locker. What did I have today, anyway? I was checking the shedule when I heard Her.

Her laugh seemed to rise above everyone elses, even the jocks. I knew Her laugh anywhere. I looked down the hall and I saw Her almost immeditaly. She was in the middle of the classic laugh-and-hair-flip routine, smiling her oh so perfect smile. She was walking with Siearra, and her blonde compainon, Flo. They were all giggling and whispering like freshmen, or worse, middle school girls.

The thought of middle school made my stomach turn over and twist. I tried to push the memories away but seeing them, giggling and whispering about God-knows-what, made me go back to middle school. The laughter, the 'accidental' toe stomping, the whispers of girls who constantly looked back at me before whispering again, having to hold my text book in my lap in fear it would be stolen. Spitballs, taunts scrawled on my locker, on the board, on my Facebook page, and it was all because of Her-Danielle Curtis.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and I was brought back to reality. That was the second bell, meaning I had five minutes to get my ass to class before I was offically late. I grabbed my stuff and headed to Math, glancing at the trio. They were still at it, only louder. Then, I hurried downstairs, getting lost in the crowd once again.

* * *

You know, sitting in the hallway eating lunch alone wasn't as bad as it sounded. I actually found it rather...peaceful. Besides, the cafeteria was just as loud and soffucating as the halls during rush hour.

Whatever cluster of students followed me from middle school to high school did their jobs well, everyone here knew all the rumours, all the taunts. It was almost like the all got together and wrote a manual for all of them. I didn't need a manual, I knew them all very well:

Aubrey, the boyfriend stealer.

Aubrey, the greedy friend.

Aubrey, the slut.

Aubrey, the crazy girl.

Aubrey, the loser.

In other words, I was Aubrey, the human target.

Of course, when I came here, I thought after three years, everyone would just get sick of me and move on. Well, I was wrong. It only lasted a half of my freshmen year, though. Thank, God. But high school was bigger than middle school, and new rumours had started. Stuff like I worked at the corner of Main Street, I was going through most of the football team, slept with the teachers...what was it with high school and sex? I don't know, I'll never understand. For the second part of my first year of high school, I got the cold shoulder. Nobody talked to me. For a few weeks, it was heaven, but I soon realized that no one was talking to me because I was yesterdays news. No one was talking to me because they were talking _about_ me.

To this day, I still pretend it doesn't bother me when my locker nieghbour mumbles some excuse to leave when I say hi, like I had already changed and left in the girls locker room but I still there, just in the stall.

I took a big glup of water and nibbled at my garnola bar. Deciding I was done, I put everything in the trash, but to do so, I had to go into the cafeteria.

"Tickets to the first dance of the year!"

"What the hell is on this?!"

"...and she, like, totally ignnored me!"

"C'mon! Free ticket?"

Yeah, school spirit sucked at Jasper. I looked over at him and smiled. He ducked his head, pretending like he didn't see me. I sighed. It was better than him throwing paper airplanes at me.

I moved down the cafeteria, people started noticing my presence and whispered, looking and whispering. For one, strange second, I wished they were saying whatever it was to my face.

Finally, at the end of the cafeteria-why the only available garbage can was all the way at the other side I don't know-I saw them. They all sat at the same table, the people I was sure had made the school hate me.

Vince, a wise ass that doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Owns a nice car, though. I hear he street races. Currently dating Danielle.

Sierra, head cheerleader and student council secutary. Pretty, popular and supposedly 'sweet'. Mostly dates guys because of their rides.

Flo, Sierra's wannabe, also a cheerleader. Tresurer for student council and head editor for the school paper. Has a reputation for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong.

Rodger, V.P., girls practically throw themselves at him, gets what he wants with the snap of his fingers. Mother passed two months ago.

David, Vince's 'best friend', even though most of the time they're stabbing each other in the back without the other noticing. Captain of the basketball team and all-around creep.

And last, but certainly not the least, Danielle, the biggest, bitchi-est, and cruelest baskstabber in the whole universe. Protrays to be sweet and kind to others but only when people that counted were around. Made sure my life was miserable everytime I walked into school.

They all were apart of my torment somehow. They were all backstabbing posuers, to everyone and each other.

I didn't know why they all sat at that table; there was a pillar in the middle of it that was probably holding up the entire school, you had to almost break your neck to see the person on the other side.

They were all chatting away when I apporached. It's okay, Aubrey, I kept telling myself, you're just throwing out your trash. They're not going to say anything. Would they? I sucked in a breath and found out.

Since the trash can was always by here, I had to make this daring move almost everyday. It was stressful, really. They never said anything to me, too absorbed in their own conversations to really notice me. Their conversations always went something like this:

Flo: "The _Jasper High Paper_ needs more juice. I need some place to stick my nose into."

Sierra: "Student council affairs are confidential, but if you let me ride in your car I'll tell you." Insert slight raise of skirt here.

David: to Sierra "I'll let you ride in my Mustang, baby."

Sierra: fluttering eyelashes "Mustang you say? I don't care if you creep me out, that Mustang is hawt."

Danielle: "That's disgusting. Can't you see that Vince and I are the only ones in true luv?"

Vince: "That's right, babe. Lets prove it by sucking each other's tongues off."

Rodger: with that pained-but-brave smile "My Mom died. Doesn't mourning look good on me?"

Everyone else: "Poor Rodger!"

Flo: "But I already used that story."

Danielle: "I'm bored. Where's that tongue, baby?"

Well, at least thats what happens in my prespective.

Danielle's lunch consisted entirely of salvia du Vince, must be how she stays so skinny. Either that or she did her puking at home, unlike some girls at Jasper HIgh.

As I came closer to the trash can, a freshmen came up to the table. She had long braids and bubblegum lipstick. She went up to Rodger. "Rodger," she bowed her head as if she were addressing a God. "The machine gave me two bars by mistake, I thought, maybe...you would have one?"

Oh, Lord. Rodger smiled, but it didn't quite reach the edges of his lips. "Thanks," he said, taking the chocolate bar gingerly, "really."

The girl smiled brighter than the sun. She bobbed on her feet and scurried away.

"Pathetic," Sierra spat before returning to her lunch.

I'm sure Rodger was really torn up about his mom, really. No one needed to tell me how much losing someone sucked. It's just that he made it seemed like it was an excuse to get more attention than he already had.

I threw my garbage in the trash can, turned and started walking. I was pass them when I heard Her.

"Bitch."

Instictively, I turned my head. I looked back at Her, but she was already back to swapping spit with Vince.

So close. So close to pointing out her true self. Danielle had perfected the art of cleaning up whatever trash she had, making it seem like it never happened. I took every oppurtunity I had to point out her true ugly self, but whenever the time came, I was always too late.

I walked away, feeling more like a loser then I already was.

* * *

**Well, I wanted to take a crack at a Transformers: Prime story. So...ta-da~! :D**

**For the characters, most of the OCs I've mentioned won't have a huge involvment in the story, and probably only mentioned in passing. Aubrey, and Danielle will be the main OCs. ;)**

**The stuff about the characters that are already in the show are just stuff I made up, most of it true though. Like Sierra being head cheerleader. (Thank you, Google!) But I couldn't find the name of Sierra's blonde compainon, so I just made up a name and some background for her :D (Flo).**

**No 'bots for this chapter, but things will pick up! ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Transformers', it belongs to 'Hasbro'.**

**Thanks for reading~! Please review~! :D**


	2. Chapter 2-Partners?

Heather drowned the night of her senior prom.

I rememeber that day clearly; her excitment was almost like the plauge, people caught it where ever she went to. Except for me, of course. All I got was the door slammed in my face.

"Shes very stressed, Aubrey," Mom explained. "Just leave her alone, okay?"

It was funny, really. Before she turned fifteen we were best friends, but that was before she decided I was the most annoying human being on the planet.

That night, Heather looked beautiful; her date arrived on time, the limo had come without any complications and the weather had held up. Everything was perfect. It was just one of those nights that nothing bad could possibly happen.

Well, something did. Something awful.

The lake was in the center of the park, it was probably the only lake Jasper had. Heather loved going there; she was either showing off in the water for her friends and boyfriend, Larry, or was roller blading. She always jumped into that lake at least once a day.

That night would be the last time, though.

I don't know specificaly what happened, only what the cops had told us. Heather and her friends decided it was a good idea to go jump in the lake and 11:54 at night, but it was a cool night, and besides, it never rained in Jasper.

That's when a freak storm hit.

The rest of the details...I couldn't bare to hear. Listening to how your sister drowned is not one of the most pleasent things to hear.

For the rest of the night, I cried. I cried like I had never cried before in my entire life. I felt like it was my fault she was gone, because I had wished her away. I was so angry at her for not listening to me, for not being there for me anymore, so I wished she would go to prom and never come back. Now, I would do anything to get her back.

Two months after Heather's death, my Mom decided to go back to work. She started to jet far, far away from Jasper, probably as far as she could. She didn't want to worry, not to think about it. That was Mom; cry a little, then put on some new lip gloss and move on. Dad kept telling me that she would be home more during the summer, but the summer was when she only came at home at least once, we were lucky to see her at all during the summer.

When my mother came home, though, she complained about everything. Like the staff were nice, but the food was bad-or vise versa. I guess she saved all the excitment for her articles. She didn't even hug us or say "I missed you", she just skipped all that and went straight to "How is Danielle doing?" or "Why don't you talk to Danielle anymore?" or "Why don't you ask someone over?" or "Has a boy asked you out?" (Like that would ever happen) or "Try to make friends, please, Aubrey?" or "Please try to be more social."

Sometimes I didn't know if I'd rather her tan at the beach of some exotic country, or breathing down my neck at home.

Heather was the beautiful, golden social butterfly, and I'm the ugly duckling. It was obvious that Mom wanted me to be Heather. I'm sure if Mom could choose which of her daughters was alive and which one wasn't, Heather would be in college, and my room would be turned into a guest room.

* * *

The first day of school always freaked me out; it was the one day of the year where everyone was so..._prepared_. Normally, you can't go to one class where, at least, one student doesn't have a pencil or something.

I came into Physics, my last class, and everyone was pulling out binders, pencils, papers, and other supplies. I scanned the room for an empty seat.

The desks were in pairs, so two people would sit together, meaning partners. I saw two empties in the back, next to the window. It was perfect-except that Sierra and Flo were in front of me.

The universe hated me, didn't it?

I sucked in a breath and braced myself, moving towards the desks. I kept telling myself that it would all be okay, but I kept hearing their voices, their taunts, their laughter. They swirled around in my head, making me feel dizzy...

I sat down.

I let myself breath, relaxing. I felt almost proud of myself. I pulled out my stuff and looked up, looking straight into Sierra's eyes.

I was caught off guard, but I still managed to put on a pokerface. She continued staring before returning her conversation with Flo, but in a lower voice. So I couldn't hear. I shook my head, and started doodling in my binder.

This stuff shouldn't bother me, not anymore. After three and half years of torment to my face, and two years of whispering, I should be used to stuff like this. This should be almost nothing to me.

Then how come it hurts so much?

The teacher, whom was busy typing away previously, stood up and cleared his throat loudly, shutting down everyones conversations. He grinned at his own success in quieting us so quickly. That's another thing that freaks me out; everyone is so quiet.

"I," the teacher said, picking up a marker and started writing on the board, talking as he wrote, "am Mr. Peters."

Mr. Peters looked to be in his mid forties, sporting a cashmere sweater, trousers and loafers, and also appeared to be balding.

"For the rest of this semster," he continued, running his hand over his non-existant hair, "we will be studying bonding and magnetism; the laws of attraction." He wrote that down, too.

Someone made a 'woot' noise somewhere on the other side of the room, and recived the classic death glare from Mr. Peters. Every teacher has a death glare, all meaning 'you better stop what you're doing or else'. The guy silenced almost immeditaly.

"Now," Mr. Peters put down his marker, facing the class fully, "for my class, you all need to have partners"-this caused some excitment-"so, please stand up and pick your partner for the rest of the year."

The entire class stood up, pointing and yelling at a friend across the room. You'd think they all just made it to 'American Idol' or something. Chairs screeched on the floors from people trading seats. Sierra and Flo stayed where the were, already back to gossiping about God-knows-what. I was left alone. Of course no one wanted to be my partner, especially for the rest of the year. I prefered being alone for class assignments anyway; people were very unrelieable.

Mr. Peters looked my way. "Hey, stragglers," he shouted so people could hear him above the noise. "Doesn't anyone want to be partners with...uh..."

"Aubrey," I said to him. Everyone was oddly quiet now. "Aubrey Mitchels."

"Yes," he said. "Who wants to be Aubrey's partner?"

The class went dead quiet.

People didn't dare move, the slightest movement could mean that they'd be my partner. This, for whatever reason, didn't bother me in the slightest. I didn't want to be their partner, and they didn't want to be my partner, it only seemed fair. Besides, I could probably get more work done this way.

"Sorry I'm late!"

Oh, shit.

* * *

**CLIFFHANGER! 8D *shot***

**Okay, okay, I KNOW I said there would be more action in this chapter, but...I wanted it to end like this ^^; Please don't kill me...**

**I'm also sorry about how short it is; I meant for it to be longer, but I just couldn't think of anything else. **

**Now, who could Aubrey's partner be? GUESS! (HINT: the character is canon!)**

**ACTION WILL START NEXT CHAPTER, I SWEAR!**

**Thanks for reading~! Please review~! :D**


	3. Chapter 3-Little Things Matter

Oh, no, please no. Just no. Why can't it be someone else? Anyone else? Just not...him. Please, not him.

Not Jack Darby.

Jack smiled sheepishly at Mr. Peters, holding out a yellow slip of paper to him. "It was...a family emergancy." Jack explained.

Mr. Peters nodded, taking the paper gingerly, stuffing it into his pocket. He smiled at Jack. "Well, its your luck day, my boy!"

Mr. Peters looked at me.

My ears turned bright red as I sank in my chair. I pretended to be fasinated by the floor. I prayed that someone else didn't have a partner, someone else would stand up and snatch Jack away.

Jack looked confused. "It is?"

Please no.

Mr. Peters nodded. "It sure is!"

No, no, no.

Mr. Peters gestures to me.

Please, Lord, no.

"Meet your lab partner-"

No!

"-Aubrey."

Shit.

The class fell silent once again. Jack looked at me, his ears turning a light shade of red. He waved at me sheepishly, but I pretended not to notice, the floor grabbing all my attention. I heard some snickers as Jack walked down my way. Sierra and Flo were both giggling amoungst themselves, and I knew they remembered. I just hoped Jack didn't.

Speaking of the little late jerk, he sat down next to me. "Hey," he said. He was smiling, but it was one of those awkward smiles.

I nodded in acknowledgement, my paper suddenly more interesting then the floor. I heard him sigh before taking out his own supplies.

Why did the universe hate me? What did I ever do? If the universe should hate anybody, it should be Danielle. Why me? Why, of all people, did Jack Darby have to be late? I would rather a brainless, steroid induced jock to be my partner.

I tried to shake it off, but the memories of middle school were already playing through my mind. I remembered 'slut' and 'whore' and 'boyfriend stealer' being hollered at me as people pelted me with dodge balls. The teacher was always too busy with something in his office to notice that I was laying helplessly on the ground, people from my own team throwing balls at me. In gym class, the teacher always just called a game of dodge ball and left us to it. It was the perfect oppurtunity for my 'classmates' to torment me further.

"Hey, uh, Aubrey?"

"What?" I snapped, sounding more harsh than I meant to be.

Jack winced, clearing his throat. "The teacher...he called your name." He explained. "Hes handing out books."

I turned my head to the front of the room, finally noticing Mr. Peters holding up a Physics book. I felt my face flush as I stood up, heading to his desk. I heard snickers from my peers, and Flo 'whisper' to Sierra, "She was probably thinking of ways to get him back into her bed!" And insert girlish giggling here.

Flo was never great at whispering. I exhaled sharply and took my book, returning to my seat as quickly as possible.

Mr. Peters continued to call out names, and people continued to whisper and snicker. It dawned on me that it was starting again. The rumours of me and...oh, God, no. I couldn't think of it. Middle school was bad enough, but for those stupid rumours to start up again, now, could be unbareable, for me anyway. I knew people whispered about me in the halls, but I prefered that people kept it to their own cluster. With any luck, Danielle would silence them before they started. The last thing she wants to remember is what happened in middle school, and her perfect self image to be shattered. Plus, odds are, people would discover that me and her used to be best friends.

The bell sounded.

I jumped a little, but thankfully no one really noticed. I gathered my stuff and headed towards the door, getting lost in the crowd before Jack could say anything.

I swung my locker door opened as soon as I put in the combination, emotions rising in my chest. My shedule had flown out in the process. Shedules were mailed out before the first day of school, to avoid hassle and confusion. Jasper High may be a shithole, but at least it was organized.

I cursed under my breath, picking it up and throwing it inside. I slammed it shut and went out the front doors.

I blinked a couple of times when the sun hit me, letting my eyes adjust. Looks like it stopped raining. People were laughing and talking, getting in their cars or trucks, or waiting for their rides.

I popped some gum in my mouth. Gum always took my mind off things when I was stressed. I walked off the stairs, and headed towards the mall.

* * *

Having a job at Little Feet, a children's shoe store, was probably one of the most horrible job in the universe, because you spend all day taking shoes off grubby little kids, dealing with bitchy parents or guardians, and sometimes you get a kid that bites. But it's money, and when you have zero working experience you can't exactly be picky.

I got my job at Little Feet when I turned fourteen, they gave me the job out of desperation. Since then, I've promoted to assistant salesperson, which is just a fancy title they give you so you feel like you're moving up in the world when you aren't. My first week at working at Little Feet, they sat me in the back of the bathroom with a boxful of audiotapes and a workbook with the answers already scribbled in by someone else. Very classy. I somehow managed to work my way through the whole series; "What's a Size?", "The Little Feet Method," "Lacing and Soles," "Hello, Baby Shoes!", and finally, "Costumer Service-Little Things Matter."

The manager, Burk, was rickety and had bad breath. He was older than my grandfather, wore ugly ties and all the children were afraid of him. He spent most of the time rearraranging everyone elses hours so he didn't have to work. He was kind of an asshole, but I did feel sorry for him; hes worked at Little Feet all his life and all he got out of it was stocking shelves and getting kicked in the crotch by some squrimmy kids.

I came into Little Feet, making my way to the back room. I put my backpack beside a lonely stool and put on my ugly green vest over my hoodie. I clipped my nametag on and went back to the front.

Sitting at the cash was Brenda. Brenda and I 'worked together' after school, 2:34 to 5:00, Monday to Thrusday. Brenda was always on her cell phone, texting away. Whenever she saw me, she'd mumble something like she'd take the cash and I help costumers, or whatever. We've never had a decent coversation since we both started working here.

Brenda was either blogging about how much life sucked even though shes practically rich, or sexting to someone whenever I saw her. I don't actually know what she was does on that phone, but it must be important to have a phone bill so bad that one of the richest people in Jasper has to work at kids shoe store to pay it off with the biggest loser in school.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

I started straightening some of the display shoes when some costumers came in. A mother and a father and a little boy that looked like he would rather be back at school than here, and I don't blame him. I let them look around, but they seemed a little lost.

I put it on my 'costumer-friendly' smiles. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Yes," the father said as his son ran off towards the Spiderman sneakers, his mother in tow. "We're looking for some new sneakers, but everything here seems so..."

"Expensive?" I offered.

"Yeah," he said. "Do you carry anything cheaper?"

This was the same with all of the costumers. The shoes were way too expensive for the average person, and the ones that were cheap were ugly as hell. I always felt sorry for the kid who walked out of here with cheap throw up green and pale orange shoes; it was like going to school wearing the sweater your grandmother knitted for you-you were going to get beat up.

We tried getting Burk to change the prices, but he refuses. So, unless the parents are willing enough to buy $187 shoes, you were stuck with ugly 'colourful' sneakers. The cheap ones were all ugly and 'colourful'.

I looked at the kid, running his little fingers over the laces, his mother crouched beside him. I looked back at the father.

"Yes," I said, keeping my smile, "we do."

"Great!" the father exclaimed enthusiaticly. "Lets see."

I nodded and went to the shevles near the cash. Brenda was still texting, her face expressionless. I took out a few boxes and put them on the counter, Brenda still didn't even notice.

I opened the first box when the mother came over with the little boy, revealing bright red and modly yellow sneakers with a happy face on the sides and indigo laces. The father raised his eyebrows and I knew the $165 Spiderman sneakers his son was looking at seemed more appealing.

"Well," the mother spoke up, "they're...colourful."

I nodded in agreement. The costumer was always right, afterall. The little boy, however, did not look that thrilled.

"They're ugly," he stated.

His father sighed, there was no argument here. "How about the others?"

I nodded again and put the happy faced sneakers back in the box. I opened the next box, hoping these were a little more appealing.

Nope, just as ugly. In fact, the rest of them just kept getting uglier and uglier by the minute. It seemed hopeless untill we finally found a decent pair. This pair was white and blue with soccerballs on the sides. The price was even more appealing.

"Look, honey!" the father exclaimed. "They're only twenty-nine bucks!"

"Plus tax," the mother muttered, but the father either didn't hear her or ignored her. He was in great-deal heaven.

"Lets see if they fit," he said.

We got the little boy to sit down as I took off his old shoes to put on the new ones, he stared at me the whole time.

"You're hair looks like mud." He stated. Kids were dead honest, that's something I learned very quickly.

"Tyler," the mother scolded, "that's not very nice."

"It's okay," I said. I was about to tell her I've been told much worse, but I decided againist it.

I laced up the shoes, and he instantly stood up and started walking around. The father grinned.

"I guess he likes them," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed. You can't go wrong with soccerballs.

The mother, on the other hand, didn't seem convinced. "I don't know..." she watched the boy-Tyler, was that his name?-run around the store in a gigglefit. If there is one thing that I have learned while working here, is that kids automatically feel they are faster if some sort of ball is on the shoe, or it lights up. True fact.

"Oh, c'mon, honey!" the father pointed at the shoes. "They're twenty-nine bucks! It's a great deal!"

"For a limited time," I interjected. They weren't, actually, but when you put a limit on a deal, you tend to make a sale.

The mother sighed. I knew that sigh. It was the 'I-want-those-shoes-to-burn-in-hell-but-that-price-is-too-good-to-pass-up' sigh. "Okay..."

I swear to God, the father giggled like a schoolgirl and practically skipped to the cash. Brenda put down her phone-it's a miracle!-and rang up the shoes when I took them off, almost getting kicked in the shin.

The family left, with the soccerball shoes in tow. I put the ugly cheap ones back on the shelves, and Brenda went back to texting.

* * *

Heather was perfect.

She was perfect to my parents, anyway. She was beautiful, popular, swimming champion-school team-she had a B+ average and was homecoming queen. She dated wonderful guys, had wondeful friends, never did any drugs, never drank, and never stayed out past curfew. She was the ideal daughter. Pefect.

But I knew a different Heather.

I knew the Heather that went to parties every night and came home climbing through my window in the middle of the night, muttering 'shit' when she almost tripped over something in the darkness, trying to be sneaky and not wake me up. I was always awake, but I let her believe that she was doing a good job of being sneaky. I knew the Heather that blew off picking me up from school so she could go somewhere with her friends, leaving me to walk home and pretend that Heather just dropped me off down the street because she had practice. I may have been close to hating her guts, but I was no snitch.

Before Heather's fifteenth birthday, we were the closest sisters in Jasper. I knew all the boys she liked from grade five to grade nine, and she knew all the girls I thought were bitches from grade four to grade eight. We knew just about everything from our favorite colours to our darkest secrets.

When she turned fifteen, everything changed. She started climbing through my window at night, half sober and half drunk, and lying to Mom and Dad's faces. Heather started to take pregnacy tests-we share a bathroom-and, I think was worst of all, started slamming the door in my face.

My parents always thought it was something that I'd done. Their prefect daughter couldn't have possibility have done something to their flawed second daughter, it just wasn't possible. In reality, she started ignoring me because I was her little sister, nothing else. Just dead weight.

I've tried talking to her, to try getting her to go to the movies with me, to tell her the latest middle school gossip, but she never listened.

I started forming a grudge against her. Not because she wasn't my best friend, not because she didn't do my hair in the morning anymore, not because she didn't want to hear my latest crush.

No. I almost hated Heather because she didn't listen to my cries for help. The "Hey, guess what Jill did" was code for, "The entire school is bullying me. I think I want to kill myself, Heather. Please help me." But she never listened. Never.

Nobody listens...

* * *

I popped a new stick of gum in my mouth, I had spit the old one out eariler, and headed for home.

My house wasn't far from the mall; just a couple of blocks down if I take the shortcut, a couple of streets if I don't. Well, my Dad is probably in his home-studio and won't come down untill I'm asleep, and if I take the long way I could probably grab dinner since I can't cook anything or I'll burn the house down.

Long way it is, then.

I passed a fastfood place and grabbed a burger, and onion rings. I love onion rings. Like gum, I couldn't live without them. I started walking on the sidewalk again, trying to resist the temptation of grabbing my onion rings and eating them, when a slick, black and purple car came out of thin air and almost hit me.

"Shit!" I yelled. Suddenly, I was angry. I guess it was how Burk bitched at me almost my whole shift, or maybe it was my school day, but I was mad. I noticed the brainless guy however owned that car had dark tinted windows, so I couldn't see the driver. Probably couldn't see me, either. Idiot.

"Get new windows, you idiot!" I shouted. And, because I couldn't think of anything better to say, I spit my gum on the hood of his car.

It probably wasn't the smartest idea in the world, but I did it anyways. I turned and started walking down an alley, which also probably wasn't a good idea, but I can't think when I'm angry.

I expected the driver to come out and start yelling at me, and demanding I pay for repairs-people with nice cars are always so dramatic-but I got no reaction. Weird. I shook it off, continuing to walk off my anger. I was out of gum.

Suddenly I heard an engine and turned around. Sure enough, there was the car, stalking me. He, or she, was probably trying to scare me by acting like they were going to run me over. Whatever.

I thought I heard something falling out of the sky, so I looked up and saw a black and purple figure-thing-whatever falling down. It landed in front of me, causing dust to fly around. I shut my eyes, and when I opened them, I was horrified.

Standing before me, was a robot. A real, metal, gigantic, robot. I knew they were doing secret lab experiments in Jasper. It was black and purple with a strip of red that I assumed was its eye, and it was also kind of skinny looking, but I wasn't exactly in the position to judge, since its hand transformed into a laser-gun.

I took a step back, wondering what the heck that driver was doing, and also fearing for my life, when I heard the sound of something...transforming. I whipped my head around, just in time to see the car morph into another robot. This one looked exactly like the one that fell out of the sky, only he looked more pissed.

I started breathing and exhaling quickly, almost to the point were I thought I was hyperventilating. I stared at them, backing up until my back hit the brick wall. They pointed their gun-laser-things at me, a whirring noise coming from it. Why were they trying to kill me? The car one almost hit me-wait. I noticed my gum on one of them, it was on what looked like the hood of the car.

There was only one thing I could manage to say:

"Oops."

* * *

**DID I CONFUSE YOU?! *laughs evily***

**You Sarah Dessen fans will know I'm making a refrence. XD**

**Vhecticons don't like gum...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Transformers, they are rightfully owned by 'Hasbro'.**

**Thanks for reading~! Please review~! :D**


	4. Chapter 4-Hey, Stranger

**Hey, guys, just wanted to say before the story starts that ****_Blah_** means a dream state. It's kind of like a dream, but it's only words. :D (That makes sense, right?) Oh, and DON'T SKIP THE WORD-DREAM-THING! IT'S IMPORTANT! Oh! One last thing! **In the word-dream-thing, there is a hidden message!** Can YOU find the hidden message? 

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

I am so screwed.

I dropped my dinner on the ground, holding my arms up like a shield. I didn't think it would help against lasers, but did it anyway out of instinct.

I lowered my arms a bit so I could see them. So, this was how it was going to end? Being blasted to bits by robots, just because I spit gum on the hood of his car or car-form-thing? Jesus, I thought the Ken's were bad.

They were just about to blast me, but before I could shut my eyes and mentally prepare myself for death, I saw a giant hand fly out and punch one of them in the face. The one hit stumbled backward and landed on the other, like dominos.

My savoir, if you will, was-oh, get this-another freaking robot. It wasn't like the other two, though. This one wasn't skinny; it was silver, blue and red in some places, and it actually had eyes and an actual face. It had a cocky smirk on his face.

It laughed. "C'mon, Cons! Is that it? One little punch and your out?" The robot sounded like teenaged boy. "Tch. That weak, huh? I guess it shouldn't be surprising. After all, you _do_ work for Megatron."

That last sentence made them pretty steamed. They both got up and started shooting at him. I thought the cocky bastard would be killed, but, to my surpise, he dodged them with ease. In fact, he made a big show out of how easy it was to avoid them.

Suddenly, the silver robot faded into the wall. I was equally confused and shocked as the black and purple guys. I saw him morph out of the other wall behind them. He punched one of them in the back, and took him down easily. The other one, with my gum on it, started shooting at the show-off, but he, once again, avoided it with ease.

"Hey," he said to the one with my gum on it's chest, "you, uh, got a little somethin' on your..."

That made the purple one pretty mad. He charged at the silver one, but he, again, disappeared, this time into the ground.

I was looking around, wondering where he was going to appear next, but then I realized something-what the hell am I still doing here? I should get out of here while I still can!

Suddenly, as I was making my escape, a hand grabbed me. I screamed and tried to wiggle free, but it proved to be a pointless effort. I was doomed.

"It's okay," he said, his voice more gentle. "I got you."

It was the cocky bastard himself.

I looked over and saw the the other robot had finally saw the silver one, and activated his gun once again.

"Hey, watch out!" I shouted.

Too late.

The silver robot was shot in the leg, making him stumble, causing him to drop me.

I landed on the ground, hard. My vision became clouded with grey and black dots, dancing in front of my eyes as they closed in.

"Scrap!" Was the last thing I heard before the black and grey took over.

* * *

_**"Aubrey!"**_

_**"...Adrain, Jack, Aubrey..."**_

_**"Guess who got back together?"**_

_**"Bitch!"**_

_**"Did you hear? She..."**_

_**"Daisy and Alan!"**_

_**"I heard, she smokes, and does all kinds of crazy shit."**_

_**"How many times can one couple break up and get back together?" **_

_**"Leave me alone, Aubrey."**_

_**"I know, it's crazy!"**_

_**"You're off the squad. We can't have a whore amoung us, now can we?"**_

_**"And guess what?"**_

_**"Aren't you going to invite the girls?"**_

_**"Come to the game! It'll be fun!"**_

_**"Jamie and Rebecca are friends again."**_

_**"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there!"**_

_**"One, two, three, four! You can get that score! Five, six, seven, eight! You guys got what it takes! Nine, ten, eleven, tweleve! What does Aubrey suck? DICK!"**_

_**"I know! I can't believe it either!"**_

_**"Shit..."**_

_**"I'm heading off now! Bye!"**_

_**"Haha! You're so right, Aubrey!"**_

_**"Hey, uh...you wanna, I dunno...hang out, sometime? Just us?"**_

_**"I know, one minute they're friends, the next they're fighting over lipstick or something!"**_

_**"Are you sure you don't want to come? This is a great oppurtunity for you, Aubrey."**_

_**"I'm sorry for your loss..."**_

_**"You're so pathetic, you know that?"**_

_**"Yeah, you're right; if they can't stay friends, they shouldn't be friends at all."**_

_**"Yeah! Push her down, Vince!"**_

_**"But we'll always be friends, right, Aubrey?"**_

_**"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"**_

* * *

"Aubrey?"

I shot up like a bullet, taking a breath like a diver after swimming. I groaned, rubbing my temples. My head was pounding so hard I was sure it was going to explode. I exhaled sharply, and opened my eyes-and looked directly at Jack Darby.

Jack smiled sheepishly at me. "Hey, there, stranger."

"Wha...What the hell?" I looked around, taking in my surrounds. The walls were mostly brown rocks, with some metal sticking out of them. I noticed I was lying on a couch, which was on some sort of platform, Jack sitting on the arm of the couch beside my head. What is this place? Some kind of weird sci-fi hang out?

"You hit your head pretty hard," Jack said. "Are you okay?"

"No." I snapped, clutching the side of my head in agony.

Jack winced, making me feel bad. I was about to apoligize, but another voice said, "Don't worry, Jack, being emotional is normal."

I looked up and saw-oh, great-another robot. It's just my lucky day today, isn't it? What was with all the robots today?

Jack seemed to have read my mind. "That's Ratchet," he explained. "He's a doctor, er, medic. And he's kinda, well...grouchy."

'Ratchet' glared at Jack, before looking at me. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like someone is dropping bricks on my head."

"That's normal."

When he turned his back to the screen, I craned my neck a bit, to see what was so important on the screen, and saw a Google page opened, 'Concussion Symptoms' typed in the search box.

"Hes...new at human health and stuff." Jack explained, noticing what was on the screen.

I nodded, sighing. I have a concussion. Great. That's the _last_ thing I need right now, especailly after today, I just want to go home.

"Hey, she's awake!" A new voice exclaimed. Except, I know that voice...

"Smokescreen," Ratchet-that's his name, right?-said sternly, "how many times have we told you that-"

"-humans don't have protective shells, and when I drop them, they go spalt," the show-off from earlier-I think Ratchet just called him Smokescreen-said. "I _know_, Ratchet!"

"Clearly," Ratchet said sarcasticly.

"I dropped her by accident!" he defended. "Besides, it's not my fault! One of the Cons shot me! It was an accident!" He looked my way for support, but I avoided his eyes, not wanting to get involved.

Ratchet sighed. "Fine, just be more careful next time."

Smokescreen saluted to Ratchet, but Ratchet rolled his eyes in annoyance. Smokescreen looked around the area.

"Hey, where's everyone else?"

"Arcee and Bumblebee are on a scouting mission," Ratchet said, not taking his eyes off the screen, "Bulkhead's waiting for Miko since she has 'detention', and Optimus is on his way back from a drive to see Aubrey."

"How does he know my name?" I whispered to Jack.

"I kinda told them," Jack explained.

I sighed. Of course he did-wait, did Ratchet say Miko? As in, the way-to-perky-for-Jasper transfer student Miko? She was apart of the secret world of robots? And she has detention on the first day of school? Go figure.

"What about Raf?" Smokescreen asked.

"Still on his vaction," Jack piped up. "He should be back tomorrow, though."

I raised my eyebrows. Raf? The cute little nerdy ten year old that skipped a couple of grades? Seriously? All this new information was making my head throb. I groaned, clutching my head.

A look of guilt crossed Smokescreen's face, and it wasn't the I'm-sorry-for-you-because-it-makes-me-look-good face. No, this was...real, which I haven't seen in a long time. It was the look my dad had when ever he looked at the pony sclupture on the mantle Heather had slapped together in third grade, you couldn't fake that look, you just can't.

A sudden rumble of an engine made us all turn our attention to a red and blue truck. It stopped in to the middle of the floor, just over an insgina that I just noticed was there, and transformed into, yet another, robot.

He turned to me-I'm assuming it's a he-and he said, his voice wise and attention grabbing, "Aubrey Mitchels, I am Optimus Prime..."

* * *

**I'm ending it like that, because...I couldn't think of anything better...XD;;;; Lame ending is lame...**

**Don't worry, Ratchet, I had to Google about concussion's, too. *pat* **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter~! And remember to review~! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Transformers', 'Hasbro' owns them.**

**Review~!**


	5. Chapter 5-New Car

I watched Miko jump around the corridors of the Autobots' base, her pigtails bouncing with every step. She kept yapping on about where this was and where that was, but my mind was somewhere else, trying grasp what I had been told.

As it turns out, the robots that attacked me were Decepticons. Decepticons are an army of robots that only want to destory, take energon, inslave and rule the universe. Typical bad guys, but Autobots, the ones that saved me and use Google-heroically, of course-are trying to stop the Decepticons and protect the human race. The only thing they really have in common-besides coming from a planet called Cybertron-they can transform into vehicles and live on Earth in secret.

Why I can't just go home and forget this ever happened? Well, it's because apparently the Decepticons are idiots and think any human that walks past an Autobot in their car-form is their allies or something, so I need Autobots protection from them.

"...and over here is-hey! Are you even listening?" Finally, Miko noticed that I wasn't paying any attention to what she was saying. She came up to me and waved her hand in front of my face. "Heellllo? Anybody home?"

I glared at her and, suprisingly, she got the message. "Someomes cranky." She mumbled, walking ahead.

I wouldn't say I hated Miko, but _damn_ does she ever get on my nerves, and it didn't help with my headache. It's almost like her purpose in life is to piss me off. I would tell her to shut up, or leave me alone, or both, but I'm making a point by not talking to her. I mean, before she got back from detention, she probably either had no idea I existed, or she was one of the girls talking about me in the halls and now suddenly we were best friends? I wasn't falling for it. I did once, and had my spirit crushed.

I knew better now.

"So," Jack said, seeing us return from the tour, "how was the tour?"

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the insignia on the floor. I heard Jack sigh, and felt Miko's eyes on me.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" I looked up to see Smokescreen, smirking. Even when he wasn't doing anything, he seemed cocky about it.

It's true; I wasn't much of a talker, which is actually ironic conisdering when I was a kid I could never shut up. After all that's happened, I've learned to keep everything inside, everything hidden. If I even showed a small chip in my armour, people could take advantage, people would use it againist me. Never trust. Never talk. Never tell. Those were my rules, and if I broke them, it would happen again.

"I just don't have anything to say." I said.

* * *

The ride home was oddly quiet, the only sound was Smokescreen's engine, or whatever it was that made his car-from-thing move.

Apparently, I need an Autobot compainon to accompany me everywhere for protection. It made sense-lets face it, I don't have much of a chance against a Decepticon-and I understood, but did it have to be Smokescreen? I was thankful for him saving me, sure, but all he did was brag about it for the first ten minutes, and it only made my headache worse. Thankfully, after ignoring him for a conisderable amount of time, only talking to him to give directions, he stopped talking.

"So," Smokescreen said. Spoke too soon. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel miserable."

For some reason, he laughed. I blinked, and I waited for him to explain, but he never did. What the hell is his problem?

"What?"

"Oh, sorry," he chuckled, "it's just that...I've noticed that you don't hold anything back, y'know?"

"No," I said, "I don't."

"Like that!" he exclaimed. He sighed, realizing he wasn't getting anywhere. "I mean, other bots usually hold stuff back, like saying"- he stopped at a red light-"their okay, but really they feel like slag. You, on the other servo, don't. You just come out and say how you feel."

"And that's funny?" Smokescreen was an odd one.

"It's just ironic," he continued. The light turned green. "Which way do I turn?"

"Right." I instructed.

Smokescreen turned right, and said, "I mean, you say what you feel, and yet...I get this feeling your holding _something_ back."

I froze. Was it that obvious? Was it really thatt obvious that I was hiding something? No...it couldn't be, and yet...

"You know what? Nevermind," he said. He sighed. "I don't know, just forget it."

I laid my head back, rubbing my temples. I felt like someone was pounding bricks into my skull. Ratchet said, or Google said, that it was normal, and I should be back to normal in a couple of weeks.

We came up to an intersection. "Do I turn left, or...?"

"No," I said, sighing. "Just keep going straight."

As we rolled into my neighbourhood, I had a sudden realization-what was I going to tell my dad? Hey, Dad, I got a sports car! I saved all my money from a minimum wage job, which is putting shoes on grubby kids, and got this car! Don't worry, I'm paying for all the bills, despite the fact that I probably spent all my money on the car! Oh, and by the way, I have a concussion. How was your day?

Yeah, _that _would go over well.

"Smokescreen," I started.

"Hm?"

"What am I going to tell my dad? I mean, you guys said I couldn't tell anyone about the whole transforming-robot-thing, so I just thought you guys had a story or something."

He paused, then said, "I dunno. I think your supposed to think of something."

"What am I _supposed_ to tell him?"

"Frag if I know." He said.

We were coming up to my house. Shit. My house was fudge brown and white, and had huge windows, you could practically see all the way through to the the backyard where the pool was.

"That house," I said, pointing to it. "The one on the corner, with the huge windows."

"Gotcha." He said.

I saw children playing in their yards, pausing to look at the forgien car that passed in awe, parents and elderly giving us dirty looks.

"What's their problem?" Smokescreen asked.

"This is a family friendly neighbourhood," I explained. "You don't usually see race cars pass through."

"Ah."

He turned into the driveway, stopping at the door of the garage. I jumped out, pressed the button for it to open, and went back in. I still didn't have a story, I guess I was going to just wing it.

"Oh," I said, "be careful of my dad and his art stuff."

"Huh?"

The door rumbled opened, and my father looked up from his work, surpised. The garage was huge, it could at least hold five cars, but we only owned two, Mom and Dad's. Heather had a car, but after the accident Mom wanted to sell it. She offered to give it to me when I turned sixteen, but a couldn't. I just couldn't. Anyway, Dad used the rest of the garage as his own personal workplace.

Dad loves to paint, using all different colours and textures in his drawings. He was going to use the basement, but Mom wanted it to be an in-law suite, and he couldn't use the attic-too small-so he filled up the empty space in the garage with his art suppiles and paintings.

Dad squinted behind his glasses. "Aubrey?"

I waved, pretending to turn the steering wheel, parking beside his car. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.

"Good luck." Smokescreen whispered.

I rolled my eyes, getting out. I walked over to Dad, acting like this all just an every day occurance.

"Hey, Dad." I said.

"Aubrey," Dad said sternly, or attempted to, "where did you get that car?"

I pressed my lips together, glancing over my shoulder to Smokescreen. "I, uh...bought it."

"You bought it?"

"Yeah."

He looked at me for a while. "With your own money?"

I nodded. I could tell he didn't believe me.

He folded his arms. "And you didn't consult me about buying a car?"

"Well," I said, taking another glance at Smokescreen, "you and Mom are always telling me to get a car, so...yeah."

Dad looked at me again, then looked over at Smokescreen, and then back at me. "How were you able to afford it?"

"Saving for three years goes a long way, Dad."

He walked past me, strolling over towards Smokescreen. He checked him over, circularing around him. Dad didn't know the first thing about cars, but he'd like to think he did. Whenever Uncle Ernest, Dad's brother and mechanic, would visit, Dad would just nod and smile at whatever Uncle Ernest was saying. It amusing to watch, really. In fact, me, Heather and Mom would actually get some popcorn and watch for our entertainment.

"So," he said after a while, "how do you plan on paying for it?"

Well, I guess that was one thing Dad knew about cars-how much they cost. I bit my lip, looking around, as if the answer was somewhere amoung the canvas' and paint brushes.

"I still got some money left over," I blurted out, "and I could save every single paycheck."

Dad turned to me, his eyebrows raised. "You really think you can pay for this thing?"

I nodded.

He sighed, looked at Smokescreen once more, and walked back to his work area. "Alright," he sighed. "I believe you."

I sighed in relief. He bought it, thank God. Dad looked at his watch, muttered something and started piling things into his arms.

"Aubrey," Dad said, "I have to go into town for a few hours. You can handle yourself, right?"

"Always have."

"Right," he picked up his satchel and carefully put things inside. "Can you pass me my coat over there?"

I glanced over and saw his coat hanging over a chair. I picked it up and handed it to him. He muttered a thanks and looked around his workplace, making sure he had everything. Dad picked up his car keys, and started to make his way to his BMW, sliding on his coat.

"You can order a pizza, if you want." He suggested, putting his bag in the backseat. I remembered the dinner I had bought on my way home, before I was almost killed. I must of dropped it. Shit.

"I'll think of something." I said.

Dad nodded, leaned over and pecked my on the cheeck. He slided into the car, and started the engine, my head reminding me so kindly that it was in pain.

"Hey, Dad, do we have any Advail? I kinda got a headache." He'd probably freak out if I told him I have a concussion, it was better not to tell him.

"Yeah," he responded, "there's some in the medicene cabinet."

I nodded, and stepped back, letting him back out. I watched him lurch out of driveway before closing the door. I sighed, rubbing my temples in agony.

"Your Creater, er Dad, seems nice." Smokescreen said, transforming.

"At least he's around," I mumbled, more to myself than to Smokescreen, "unlike Mom..."

"Where is your Mom?" he asked.

I walked over to Dad's work area and sat in his chair. "Probably tanning in Mexico or something."

Smokescreen blinked. "What's a 'tanning in Mexico'?"

I giggled, covering my mouth in an effort to stop myself, but I couldn't help but smile at his question.

"Hey," he said, smiling, "she actually smiles!"

I frowned, looking away.

"Not for long, though..." He mused.

There was a long silence before my head decided to remind me it was in pain again. I rubbed my temples once again, getting up and walking towards the door that led straight into the kitchen.

"I'm getting some dinner, and Advail," I muttered, opening the door. "Stay here until my dad gets back."

"What am I supposed to do 'till then?"

I looked at him and shrugged. "Frag if I know."

* * *

_**"Bitch!" He yelled, punching me in the face.**_

_**I fell backwards and onto the ground, wiping blood from my lip. He yelled more names at me, and started kicking me around. Tears swelled up in my eyes, but I forbade myself to cry. I wasn't giving them any satisfaction.**_

_**"Hit her harder!" Someone yelled.**_

_**He did.**_

_**I gasped, and I tried to stand up, clutching on a railing for support. Pain and agony couldn't even begin to decribe what I was feeling. He punched me in the back, and I lost my grip on the rail on fell face first into the grass.**_

_**"Harder!" Someone yelled.**_

_**"Take her down, Vince!" Another yelled.**_

_**They all shouted and called me every name in the book, including ones I hadn't even heard before, and he continued to beat the shit out of me. **_

_**"I-" I started, trying to explain, explain the misunderstanding, what had happened, but he punched me in the mouth. **_

_**"Shut up, Aubitch!" He yelled.**_

_**The all cheered at the new name to taunt me with, and I knew when Monday came everyone at school would know exactly what to call me. **_

_**I managed to keep my footing this time, and started running. If I just made it past the wall, then someone would help me, someone had to be in the parking lot. The wall was a divider for the back of school and the parking lot, kids can also put their bikes on the rail, if they wanted.**_

_**Someone tripped me, and I landed on the ground again. Half of me was past the wall, the other was not. I quickly got up and tried running, but some of them grabbed me and tried to pull me back, covering my mouth so I couldn't yell.**_

_**I started squirming, and I tried thrashing, but I was too weak. I looked into the parking lot-and saw Heather's car. I could see her clearly; she was tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at her watch. She looked pretty annoyed. If she just turned her head, just glanced over once, she could see me. She would come over and stop my haressment, would take me home and make me a chocolate fudge cake, and we would sit on the couch and watch old movies, just like we always did.**_

_**But she never did.**_

_**Heather decided that I was important enough to wait for anymore, and started up her car. She pulled out of the parking lot, leaving me behind.**_

_**She never came back...**_

* * *

I gasped, sitting up. I reached over and turned on my lamp, the light revealing I was in my room, not at the back of Jasper Middle School. I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I looked at my arm, old faded scars shining in the lamp's bright light. Old wounds never go away, internal or external.

My room wasn't all that much to look at; it had plain white walls, wood flooring, and a decent sized closet tucked in the corner. I had some pictures, but most of the walls are pretty bare. My bed was just a regular bed with a red bedspread. Nothing special. Although, the pictures were quite special, to me, anyway.

The one nearest to my bed was Uncle Ernest and Aunt Susan's wedding cake that Heather had baked. When Heather wasn't in the water, she was in the kitchen, making delicious cakes. She loved making cakes, she even baked her own birthday cakes because she didn't trust us to make a cake to her taste. I remember Monday afterschool was when Heather forced us all to sit down and endure an episode of 'Cake Boss', even if it was a rerun. So, when Ernest and Susan asked her to make them their wedding cake, she jumped at the chance. Susan wanted it to be flower themed-she owns a flower shop-and Uncle Ernest didn't really care, as long as it was chocolate.

"It's like a garden," I heard Heather explain to her friend Betty Wilson in the kitchen one day, "it's gonna be this really pretty green with pink flowers on it, with vines connecting it all, and it's gonna be this real rich chocolate, too."

That's exactly how it turned out, too. People gathered around the cake, oo-ing and aww-ing as they looked around it. It was beautiful, just like all the other cakes she had made. Most of my pictures were Heather's cakes, actually. They were so beautiful, so delicious looking, I had to keep the pictures Mom took before they were devoured. You could almost smell them if you got up close to the pictures.

The other pictures were just pictures Dad had painted for me when I was a baby. I had more pictures, but I had burned them all. I saw no point in keeping them; why should I keep pictures that had my tormentors in them? I didn't care if they used to be my friends-they certaintly didn't care that we were friends back then, or now.

I laid down, rubbing my temples. The Advail helped, but my head still hurt. I sighed and kicked off my covers, sliding my feet into my white slippers and stood up. I knew I wasn't going to sleep with a headache, and the only reason I actually was asleep was thanks to the old trusty sleeping pills I used to take.

With the bullying going on, I had the worst trouble falling asleep. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, someone was going sneak into my room and beat me up or something. (Not that my parents or the doctor knew that, they just figured it was because of Heather's passing). The doctor gave me some sleeping pills, and I then I could sleep again. I stopped taking them two years ago, but I still got some just in case.

I walked from my bed to my mirror that hang above my nightstand, and looked into it. Everyone tells me I'm an oridinary Mitchels, but I don't see it. My hair was light brown and messy, it looked like a clump of mud stuck on my head, just like the kid had said, and my eyes were an mutard-ish colour. I really didn't see anything that resembled the rest of my family-dark brown and shiney blue eyes with soft skin. I was nothing like my family; they cared about their image, I stopped. I stopped caring weither my hair was messy or not a long time ago.

I suddenly started to feel hot-I guess that's what you get for living in a town in the middle of Nevada-walked over to my window and opened it, letting in the cool night air.

I swung my leg over and sat an the window sill, leaning my head against the frame, my right leg dangling outside. I turned my head, and looked at the picture on my nightstand. It was just a painting of a rainbow with three butterflies, and yet it meant so much to me. I made it, actually. It was pretty crappy, the colours were too dark and the butterflies looked sloppy, and it shouldn't mean anything, but it did, because Heather liked it.

The painting went along with this poem I wrote when I still thought friendships were forever, sisters were there for you and parents were superheroes. I wish I was ten again. Anyway, the poem was just about three butterflies-me, Danielle, and Heather-following this rainbow, or something like that.

_"Crazy bitch!"_

Those voices...

_"I heard she thinks fairies and stuff are real!"_

Stop, please...

_"What mental hospital did you escape?"_

Don't remember...

_"I don't believe in that stuff anymore, Aubrey!"_

Don't remember...

"Aubrey?"

I gasped, nearly falling out of the window, but caught myself in time. I looked to see Smokescreen.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Easy there, Aubrey!"

He was grinning, _God_ I hated that grin. "What are you _doing_?!" I said through clenched teeth.

"I saw the light on," he pointed to the garage, which wasn't too far from my window, "from the window."

"What about my dad?" I asked.

"He just got home," he explained. "I think he went upstairs..."

I sighed. "Smokescreen, I have _neighbours_. Someone will see you."

"It's night time! Who's gonna-"

"Keep your voice down."

"-see me?" he finished in a lower tone.

I sighed in irritation, rubbing my head. "Look, I'm tired and I have a headache, can you _please_ leave me alone?"

"I'm sorry," he said, "you just looked...sad."

I looked away, wiping a tear I was just realizing was there. "I'm fine." I mumbled.

There was a long silence, and I felt a pang of guilt. Smokescreen was, strangely enough, the only thing real I have seen in a long time and I was pushing him away, on top of that he saved my life. I felt like a total bitch.

"Thanks," I said, breaking the silence, "for saving me earlier."

Smokescreen looked surprised, but still grinned. "It's what I do."

I smirked. "I'm the only human you ever saved, aren't I?"

"...Maybe."

I laughed, and then he started laughing along with me. I suddenly noticed how easy and simple it was for me and him to laugh together. How good it felt, how..._genuine_ it felt. I haven't felt like that in a long, long time-and it wasn't even that funny.

"Hey," he chuckled, "she can laugh, too."

This time kept smiling.

He grinned. "And she does it longer."

* * *

**So, yeah, Aubrey used be a dreamer before the bullying and stuff. :( Also, Aubrey's Dad is an artist! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, Hasbro does.**

**Please review! It keeps me going~!**


End file.
